Dreamers' Chronicles
by Cryptek12
Summary: Elgaia, a big world full of people and fantasies come true, and Earth, a small world built over more broken wishes than living dreams. But when a hero dies and a goddess escapes with the power to call forth legends long past, what colors will this story of a boy, phantoms, and desire paint? (Credit for cover art goes to Vayreceane of Deviantart. And accepting OCs!)
1. I: Prologue to Fantasy (and Notes)

**Author's Note:**

This is Cryptek12, feeling regretful and sorry for the lack of updates.

And I am discontinuing _Lost Dream_

By now, you may have read the note in _Lost Dream_ regarding its discontinuation, and I will repeat what it said: " _Lost Dream_ did not leave me with a sense of satisfaction the further I wrote. What I felt like I did was just writing a big public draft; the worlds, planet Earth, the characters, the Units, all the powers that exist—it all was incomplete, and I wanted to try again with a smaller focus." And so on and so on.

With that out of the way, here are some notes:

 **\- This is a Submit-Your-Own-Character Story—the revised OC form will be down below for you to copy and fill. I may end up changing parts of their background stories, however, to suit this fanfiction.**

 **\- OCs already submitted in Lost Dream will still be featured as part of the story's cast of characters. My apologies to you creators if this caused any problems.**

 **\- Expect several edits and corrections to be made to existing chapters.**

 **\- Prior knowledge of Brave Frontier and the story as a whole is unnecessary. If you want to look up the internet for more details on the Units and the game's lore, feel free to do so. W** **arning: to those who play the game, and have not gotten far into its story mode, this fanfiction may reveal the major plot points of the game.**

 **\- Please leave a review in order to help me with this story. Comments of vague and derogatory natures are unhelpful.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Brave Frontier; it belongs to A-Lim. I also do not own any trademarked brands featured in this story or the OCs belonging to other FFN authors. I only own the plot and my own characters.**

 **Summary: _All futures can be uncertain. That is what most people think, and so did Maxwell Graham Sheffield and many others when the Units of Elgaia and beyond, and the stuff of fantasy, came crashing into their lives. So whatever comes their way… well, let us read, shall we?_**

Now, please enjoy the story!

* * *

 _ **OC Form:**_

 **Just a few notes:**

 **\- No overpowered/Gary/Mary Sue characters. At the very least, I will decide whether they are or not before accepting them.**

 **\- People who came from other worlds are allowed.**

 **\- People who may be intended for one thing may change over the course of this story. An average civilian could end up being a dashing thief, for example. Or rather, DO NOT complain about what happens to them.**

 **\- Do not expect your OC to be a Summoner since I will be determine whether they will be one or not at all.**

 **\- Do not answer categories your OC cannot properly answer. If there are any problems, then I will consult with you. Regardless, you are expected to COMPLETELY fill out the form.**

 **\- Send your form(s) in a Private Message to me, not by reviews. State the _full name_ of your character(s) in your message's ' _subject_.'**

 ** _GENERAL_**

 ** _Full Name: (General identity.)_**

 ** _Nicknames/Titles: (Any kind.)_**

 ** _Gender: (Male/Female/Ambiguous, etc.)_**

 ** _Age: (Any number, but include a measure of time like 'years'.)_**

 ** _Birthday: (Earth calendar, year included. Assume (pretend) that Elgaia has one too (no year though), or if your character comes from such a world. Alien calendars are fine too.)_**

 ** _Race: (Any. Yes, any, but humans (or humanoids) are expected.)_**

 ** _Occupation: (Depending on your character's circumstances. Even an RPG class is fine, seeing as this is a fantasy story. If notable, write down multiple, even past jobs. 'Student' qualifies as a job. If they have none, then write 'None'. 'NEET' and 'Stalker' qualifies too.)_**

 ** _World and Place of Birth: (It is up to you if your character is an otherworld denizen or a simple Earthling. State the world your character came from, then their nationality (or birthplace). If they at least are human but not from Earth, state what nationality on Earth they would have matched. If it turns out they came from another world (at least not part of the Brave Frontier universe), you may be questioned later on that world.)_**

 ** _APPEARANCE_**

 ** _General: (Be detailed with what they look like. I will not tolerate half-baked descriptions. Be particular about some parts of how they look like, like skin color, color of their irises and pupils, face shape, dyes and such.)_**

 ** _(DETAILS)_**

 ** _Hair Color: (If any.)_**

 ** _Skin Color: (Tan, pale, brown, etc.)_**

 ** _Eye Color: (If any as well.)_**

 ** _Height: (In inches and centimetres.)_**

 ** _Weight: (In pounds and kilograms.)_**

 ** _Chest: (Inches, centimetres. And cup size if you think it necessary.)_**

 ** _Waist: (Inches and centimetres.)_**

 ** _Hips: (in., cm.)_**

 ** _OUTFITS_**

 **(A/N: No excuses for your character not to wear any, please, unless they happen to have reasons to be explained and places below. Take them as what-ifs.)**

 ** _Casual: (Whatever your character wears the most. Please include accessories, and be particular about your articles of clothing, not like saying 'black clothing' or 'red dress'. For example, if it is a dress, then mention if it is sleeveless and plain, or sparkling and frilly.)_**

 ** _Formal: (For occasions, like proms and meetings.)_**

 ** _Cold Weather: (The kind that keeps you warm, especially during Christmas.)_**

 ** _Hot Weather: (The ones that help keep cool, especially in deserts.)_**

 ** _Swimwear: (For beaches and swimming.)_**

 ** _Sleepwear: (For bedtime.)_**

 ** _Extra: (As in, other outfits your character may be seen in, like accessories, secondary casuals, extra armor to the casual outfit, or a hazmat suit, etc..)_**

 ** _PERSONALITY_**

 **(A/N: No half-thoughts or poor answers please.)**

 ** _General: (Describe your OC's personality with detail. '-dere' system accepted, but be sure to be accurate.)_**

 ** _Traits: (List, but describe what you mean for every perk and quirk.)_**

 ** _Likes: (Anything...)_**

 ** _Dislikes: (...and_ everything.)**

 ** _HISTORY_**

 ** _Biography: (Give a summarized history of your character. 'Blanks' will be filled in if necessary in the story depending on the length and details of their history.)_**

 _ **ABILITIES**_

 **(A/N: Be sure you have given enough thought about what this character can do. Names for special abilities can be included, on a side note.)**

 _ **Overview: (A summary of the character's capabilities. Look at the class bio of an RPG game, like the ones in Darkest Dungeon, for an example.)**_

 ** _Skills: (Make a summary first, explaining the repertoire and 'what your character can do because of what' on a not-supernatural level overall, unless it naturally comes with the job/class and race. Then make a list below, stating the name of notable skill(s) (like 'Bad Cooking' or 'Intuition') and description(s) (ex. 'Jack creates bad food due to a lack of actual training' or 'She's an esper…')._**

 ** _Powers: (The kind you would get in games and TV and the works. Like Skills, make a summary and a list (like 'Aquamancy' or 'Ge*ss'), then create a satisfactory description for said power(s). Named chuunibyou-ish arts and techniques as part of the power are fine too.)_**

 ** _Paraphernalia: (While this pertains to miscellaneous articles, include equipment here as well. In other words, this is where your character's signature items go in.)_**

 ** _Strengths: (The kind that your character is good at.)_**

 ** _Weaknesses: (Their fatal flaws and such.)_**

 ** _EXTRA/TRIVIA_**

 **(A/N: If there are any things that cannot be included in the above categories, you can make up a new one here. For example: 'Theme Songs:')**

 ** _Notable Features: (Sharp teeth, rosy lips, freckles in weird spots, to name a few.)_**

 ** _Habits: (Chuunibyou speech? Stress eating? Name a few IF they have any.)_**

 ** _Living Conditions: (What is their financial situation? Describe how well they can take care of themselves. Do they even live anywhere?)_**

 ** _Relationships: (Parents, cousins, schoolmates, acquaintances, etc. Briefly state how they are related to your character for each one. List if possible.)_**

 ** _Quotes: (Ones to describe how they speak and how they act. Three is the minimum. Ten is the maximum.)_**

* * *

 **Type this in your message to me at the end: "Your Lie in April." This is to ensure you did read all of this.**

 **Also, type in the full name of your original character in your message's subject head. No titles or nicknames, just full names only.**

* * *

Prologue

Prologue to Fantasy

 _The Imperial Capital Randall, Elgaia_

The city was in an uproar. The skies were grey. The streets ran with blood.

Because on a wooden platform, in the city's center, people watched villains die. Among them was a man with white hair, whose head went into a bowl.

Another villain. That was what the city's newest leaders told the masses, at least.

"The Akras Summoners' Hall has turned traitor!"

"Our enemies have been reformed!"

"Bounties on the escapees, but dead, not alive!"

News spread. People wept. People rejoiced.

Because as one certain rock that the uncertain world seemed to rotate on left forever, a sea of change was felt rippling throughout, for better or worse.

* * *

A goddess with prismatic hair, which rippled in starts of teal, emerald, yellow, and ending in lavender, sobbed. Tears streamed down her usually bright face. The world around her was grey and swimming. Everyone she loved was gone, for now or for worse.

But she had to leave and keep a promise. Light gleamed down from the heavens for a moment in which she wished she could turn all this back.

The light continued to shine. Time still passed by. The girl withdrew those thoughts and focused.

And there. A world without many troubles, grand or otherwise. It was so… far. Suddenly the light warped horribly, as if it knew reaching from here was just a dream.

So the girl looked down on her small hands. They grasped a sword, one warm to the touch and trembling with incredible, hidden might. She drew from the source within and found the light calming down, straight and proper.

She took a step forward.

* * *

As another light left the world, people panicked.

Living, walking memories stopped for a moment that lasted… forever. They walked the earth again not long after, but their masters felt it.

A god of once great power sensed the light that shone so brightly, but found that they still could not move. Petrified they may be, great rage swam inside them, realizing there was a weed far out there growing. Their feelings were made known to their allies, sending people scrambling for a search that may take a very, very long time.

Other worlds had few who have taken notice. They could only watch the goddess flee from the hurt that waited her in Elgaia. That world, this universe, was a host to too many problems.

So in another universe, on a different planet, the power that started it all touched Earth. As years passed by, its results were only noticed in many far off places around the globe. Regardless, that globe continued to turn without a care. Its inhabitants moved on with their lives too, adjusting to those changes with little real care.

* * *

 _New York City, America_

In another place, a boy woke up to the sound of an alarm clock.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Yes, finally, I am back. This is a very short chapter, but I can promise that future chapters will be longer. While I cannot say that this will be a work worthy of some 'Hall of Famous Fanfictions', I'm taking care to let my readers enjoy this work.**

 **As a reminder, I am still accepting original characters. Feel free to submit to me by Private Message using the OC Form to me, and if you do, remember to include the OCs' full name as the subject title.**

6/Aug/2019: Combined Chapter 1 with the Author's Note chapter to comply with guidelines, where entries comprising solely of author's notes are not allowed.


	2. II: One Night on Christmas

Chapter 1

 **One Night on Christmas**

Maxwell stared into darkness. Right next to him was a window, curtains not fully drawn. A little sunlight pooled into the room. It seemed pitiful trying to chase all the dark away, but at least his blanketed leg was warmer. He made out a part of the coffee brown wall in front of him, brown like his hair, but not as light as its chestnut shade. A dark patch of mold spread into the scene from the upper corner though, but the idea of two tones made the resemblance closer.

The bells he heard were still ringing. Stifling an annoyed sigh, he looked at the more annoying light in the dark, shivering on the bedside table.

He tapped on its cold glass. Once the noise stopped, he stomped down a thought to dive into his bed. To make sure it did not grow back, with a swing of his arm, he flipped a light switch on the wall.

A searing light overhead lit up the small room. Maxwell winced, but let his eyes narrow, adjusting to the new bright setting.

"Well… more of an old scene," he muttered to himself. "Not that I'm here for much longer."

A bed much over his height in length. A room with a width fitting exactly that length. A desk on one side that used to be an apothecary's worktable. A small antique wardrobe on the other. Brown walls patterned like layered chocolate cake everywhere, except for the mold in the corner high up.

It was his third room to date. Here, he slept, dressed up for school, did his homework, read books, cleaned it responsibly, entertained a few kids his age and younger, and barely decorated it. He was coming to a more permanent home anyway, even if he had waited for a year. It was finally coming in nine days.

Maxwell stared at the grey lining of the iPhone's protective casing as he rested his thumb on the home button. The screen lit up, showing the time and date:

 **4:19**

 **Saturday, 24 December**

His usual alarm clock didn't ring in its place, now that it was turned off and stuffed inside the luggage. His uncle had left his spare to act as a replacement. Maxwell's cell phone was still being repaired.

He stood up to go to the living room and see the hanging clock there, not trusting his uncle after what happened last night. Maybe eating the sushi as revenge was petty of Maxwell, but he was hungry from Herman eating the prepared dinner. His uncle really needed to get his own food more. Being Herman, this boy's mother's brother, tricking a twelve-year-old into drinking vodka was worth breaking his code to uphold the law as a cop, as long as he wasn't caught red—

The thankfully-not-hungover boy looked at the figures on the phone's lock screen again. Something wasn't right. Then he looked outside, past the waterfront, staring at the skyline of a city. The 'morning' sun looked so close to setting over the horizon.

The white words, over a white disgusting grin and one red fat " **Punk'd!** " in the background, had read:

 **4:19 PM**

 **Saturday, 24 December**

* * *

Snowy New York City was struck by a sort of fervor, as it had been since the start of the December. There was a festive feeling in the wintry air, demanding annual offerings in the form of celebrations. It was very welcome, so people partied hard to make for all the work they did before Christmas.

The day before Christmas saw last minute preparation because of this. Even though this was the season to be jolly, people had parties to attend to or to prepare for. That led to lots more shoppers everywhere anyone looked in the shopping districts. After that was the hassle to get through the thick crowds, especially for someone as short as Maxwell.

While it would be worrying for any responsible parent to leave a twelve-year-old on their own, Maxwell had his own rough tussles back then. The stores he went to were near to the apartment if he needed to come back quick. He was even going thirteen in two months, the universally accepted age of non-kids!

"Hey there young 'un, where's your parents?"

"It's just me, now take these already!"

Maxwell shoved the groceries at the smiling cashier guy. Someone behind the line chuckled. No one was looking his way when he glanced back.

For some reason, even though Maxwell saw kids his age by their lonesome, none of them were ever asked questions like that. They would lay down their groceries on the counter like Maxwell was doing right now, wait, maybe chat with the cashier, and be on their way, no teasing taken. Somehow he stood out as some pint-sized boy who should be watched. Not like a secret agent shadowing a criminal, of course.

Or maybe it was his hair. Remarks of all sorts would come a second later. After paying the cashier, he saw a woman, grim-faced, point at him and gossip with the housewife beside her, making him hurry on to the bustling streets. He was pretty sure a group of tourists passing by give him a glance mutter "Delinquent" in an impressed sort of way.

Maxwell warily fingered a tuft of his short hair. He had it cut months ago, but it was growing, while some short strands spiked. Like his room, it was hazel brown at the roots, but like dark red wine, it changed colors in the middle and ended in a subtle maroon. The colors blended together, unlike the way hair colors met each other suddenly. It didn't take long for the boy to stand out amongst hair color enthusiasts. Not that he was one.

Reactions were a mixed bag; having multiple color tones was starting to become common, especially with the latest hair products coming out. All sorts of groups, especially the sporty fans, do it. But that fad was still new, and there weren't any sports games going on right now. People tend to judge, Maxwell learned, based on looks first.

So here he was, plastic bag in hand, struggling through the overbearing, hot crowds, seen as a suspected delinquent to accompany his somewhat-polite-but-still-brash demeanor, shopping for Christmas while his uncle was on duty.

"Eat _sauerkraut_ , Herman." Maxwell let out a curse when he saw the street being blocked off by brown-coated policemen. A parade was coming through at this time, while the butcher's shop was on the other side. "You and your pranks…"

"Oh, scary…! Who's gotten on your bad side this time?"

The boy spun around. Grinning at him was a tall and blond teenager, skin a little tanned, and dressed in a black, fur-lined, leather jacket. His green eyes looked down on Maxwell just a bit, fingers tapping with holiday energy.

"My uncle, Kevin," Maxwell replied, at ease. Kevin was one of those student celebrities, but the modest kind, even if he tended to flaunt his rich status. "And… where's your girlfriend? You said you had a party tonight."

"Oh, I'm just waiting for her here. There's this bag she wants at a new store, uh, _6-6_."

"There's been lots of new stuff off the line these days. The girls at my school were talking about it."

Kevin nodded. "Anyway, I was calling out to you if you still wanted to go to the party. Some of my friends' brothers and sisters were asking about you. Might be the last time you all get together before you move away."

"And get _way_ on someone's bad side? I don't like being a loner, but I think some of the people there still remember me… in a bad way. Besides, there are a few people looking forward to the little celebration at my place."

"Heh, you're the Mom anyway."

Maxwell scowled. "Don't call me that."

"Well, you're not really some househusband, but you do have the basic qualities."

"Shut it…"

Kevin laughed while the younger boy looked at the street, then at the sun overhead. It must have been over an hour now with all the time spent on moving through the blocked streets and crowds. Stores were going to close early soon for the coming night.

"Hey, Kevin, do you know any shortcuts past this street?" he asked.

The taller guy pointed at an alley. It looked dark and dank just like any other alleyway, but there was no one other than the occasionally group of people.

"Take this way," Kevin said, "then left to a bridge over a river. Dangerous for a kid, but I guess you won't have that much trouble. You sure you don't wanna come tonight?"

"I'm sure, thanks. I'll meet you again another time."

Waving an arm back without looking, to which Maxwell heard a loud "Sure", he walked into the alley.

"Helicopter parents. That's what they are called right?" he muttered as he remembered a few. "Too bad Kevin's are something like that."

Maxwell looked up at the blue sky, seeing more of the orange now. Snowflakes were drifting down. Temperatures would be lower as night came. The packed crowd today had created enough body heat to melt away the light snowfall, but here in places where people don't normally go, snow piled up here and there. The boy huffed, making a misty cloud, and drew his scarf back up to his nose. The homeless people here would be gathering around makeshift campfires but there wasn't a single barrel in sight for most of Maxwell's walk.

Up until he saw a little cloaked form against a wall, next to a smoking barrel. When he got closer, the figure looked around his size. He glanced into the barrel, finding mostly charcoal remains of wood that offered barely any heat.

The sight made Maxwell frown, but he wasn't going to start helping strangers straight off the bat. There were plenty of homeless people to go around in this country. Each and every one of them can use the help, especially this homeless one, but Maxwell could only do so much without repayment in mind.

The little person shuffled, making the thick-looking cloak slip off a little. What was mysterious turned into something… cute…?

"Horns?" he muttered the thought aloud.

They looked like tiny hills under the hood at first, making Maxwell think of headphones, but there they were: black, scaled, curving before pointing downwards, and tipped blood red, they protruded from the sides of a young girl who looked a little past twelve. Past those was blonde and braided hair that trailed down her neck and over her shoulder. Maxwell spied a red cloth covering her mouth.

A cosplayer? Or one of those animal mutants in the news lately? But he saw the face of a young girl, making little puffs as she breathed, and soft cheeks that were probably red from the cold. Despite the hard brick behind her, she still slept.

Then her face scrunched up. She shivered, and—

 _Duuuuuurrrr…_

Maxwell stared. The girl squirmed a little, hands over her stomach.

 _Bbboorrreeeggooorrre…_

"Uuu…" came the pitiful whine from her.

In a second, his conscience won him over, but he wasn't going to take her into the apartment. Instead, he knew a group dedicated to being just that.

"Hey…" he bent over and called. "Can you hear me, miss?"

"Mmrrrpp…"

"What are you, a cat…? I mean, hey, you can't sleep here. Get up."

"No no! Let 'er sleep. Things'll be easier that way."

Maxwell spun around. A man dressed in a grey coat grinned at him, striding more than he was walking, showing off chrome face spray all over his mouth and jaw like a bandana. Behind him were more men, each looking different, but wearing the same face paint or had something blatantly grey.

A gang. Which one, Maxwell didn't know. There were plenty of gangs to go around too after all.

"And who's War-Boy-Wannabe to demand that much?" the boy snapped, reaching for a pipe sticking out of the barrel.

"Feisty! And we loved the movies! But we're the Grey Rats. Kiddos like 'cha don't gotta mess with our business, and the freak-o with 'orns over there looks… interestin'. Run off and find yer parents, wouldn't 'cha?"

Something inside Maxwell twitched in anger. Chrome Man kept on grinning. A gang member laughed with glee. A fat guy was holding a huge bag, big enough for the average little kid to get inside. The others jeered, leering at the sleeping girl. She wasn't getting up despite the noise.

With a quick "Dang it all", Maxwell wrenched the pipe out. Chrome Man, apparently the leader, called, "Not running? Good guts. We'll make you puke 'em out, yeah?"

The boy held the pipe with a simple two-handed grip, weapon in front. It was somewhat light, thanks to how hollow it is, and a little warm from being in the still smoking barrel, but the grey-painted thugs had typical punk weapons: bigger pipes, chains, knives, except for one of those fake yellow ducks comedians had for the physical side of clowning around. Chrome Man was lazily waving it.

"Comedy!" he said when he saw Maxwell staring at it. "Nothing more ridiculous, right?"

The boy looked back to a sleepy girl with horns. She wasn't going to be getting up soon, not that she could help much, being so little and all.

Maxwell reviewed what he had against nine guys. He was a boy, twelve years old, turning thirteen. Again, he had a pipe just right for him to swing around. He did get (dragged) into a few fights with gangs back then. He was friends with people who loved to fight that taught him their ways. His uncle did teach him about military training.

Though, he wasn't a soldier. Neither was he someone who finished the training to be one, nor had he practiced any fighting skills in a while since he was focused on schoolwork. Already Maxwell was coming to the answer that he should be running in these bad odds.

But there was a little girl behind him waiting to be robbed or done in worse if he stood by. These people would not give him the time to get her up. That was enough reason.

"Hey Boss, I'll start first. Bullying's my specialty."

"No, I wanna test out my bat!"

"Just go ahead, you two! Like I said, make 'im puke."

His grip tightened, teeth clenched. Any warmth from the pipe was joined by warmth from his boiling blood. He thought about getting in close, maybe take a horrible hit, keep moving and at least draw these people off…

"Hey there!"

The thugs were the ones who spun around this time. No one had been looking at their rear. Maxwell breathed a sigh of relief when he saw.

A man with red hair, dressed in a longcoat for the cold weather, aimed a taser. Behind him were more men with nightsticks and pepper spray at the ready. But despite the brandished weapons of the law, the light bouncing off shields pinned to their left breasts was what really grabbed everyone's attention.

"NYPD! You're under arrest!" shouted Herman Langley.

* * *

"A-And they came in the nick of time?"

"They were already looking for the gang, so it was a matter of time before all that racket we made got the police coming."

"Sure makes for a good story to tell the kids. But even better for you to bring this kid here. What's with the horns though?"

"I don't know. She wasn't up to tell me this whole time."

"…She sure has been sleeping for a while."

The National Alliance for the Homeless was a non-profit organization dedicated to helping poor people. Though small, it had offices and care centers throughout the south of the United States. The medical bay they were in, being big, full of cots, painted grey, kept squeaky clean, was part of the care center stationed in New York City.

Around twenty minutes ago, Maxwell had been questioned briefly on the scene, but was seen more as a witness without much involvement other than getting in the way of the Grey Rats for a minute or two. Herman had only grinned at his nephew while he helped with shoving gang members into police trucks, telling him to get back home later so that "I'll have words with you". A policeman offered to take Maxwell and the girl to the nearby NAH care center, and here the boy was, sitting on a chair and talking with a member of the organization.

The girl with black-red horns continued to sleep on a cot in front of them. While she had been moving around in her sleep when Maxwell and the NAH member carried her here, the girl didn't do more than make whining sounds and cute whimpers. She just slept on, looking comfy. They tried to take off her ragged cloak, but she clutched onto it, making sad sounds that stirred their insides, so they let her be.

"Bernie, have you seen this girl before?" asked Maxwell.

The man he talked to was an African American in his fifties, a little on the pudgy side, black hair tied into dreadlocks. Bernie never elaborated on his background, but he was known amongst the homeless as a good guy. He had been one until he officially worked as an assistant to the head manager of the building.

The man shook his head, making his dreadlocks sway. "With those horns, long hair, and face? Nothing like I've heard on the street."

 _Grrrruuuu…_

The girl's face scrunched up. It had been the second stomach growl they heard this hour.

"She's hungry though." Bernie stood up. "The kitchen's serving fish porridge today. I'll get bowls for you two."

"I don't need one," Maxwell declined.

"Oh, come on, the food's good. And you're good help that hasn't gotten your breakfast. You deserve some, kiddo."

"I—"

 _Growl…_

This time it didn't come from the sleeping girl. Red like his hair tips, Maxwell took an interest in the floor's cracked tiles instead of Bernie's laughing face as the older man left the room.

Huffing, Maxwell looked at the girl. She kept on making quick, whiffing sounds while she breathed. Here in this warm room, her little breaths didn't mist like they did outside in the cold alley.

Poor young girls like her were a dime a dozen all around the world. The boy's trips went around America mostly, and he visited Japan with his family once for a month-long vacation, but he read plenty and watched the news enough to know this in particular.

The horned girl shifted, making her braided hair tip off the cot. Maxwell caught the end, feeling some of the strands coming out, and gently laid it back on the pillow.

It was only a moment of self-satisfaction in bringing her here, though Maxwell felt this was right. He was helping, something people liked him for, but more importantly something he did for himself and everyone who could smile past pain. He hasn't gotten a smile from the girl though, and he may not come back to New York in a while.

So he felt that he should reward himself. Digging into a shopping bag, before realizing he still had to buy meat later, he took out a box of fruit-based macaroons. It was cheap; the expensive one he managed to get today was a miracle with the seasonal sales going on, saved for his reunion with his sisters who were probably still settling down in Woodbury Town. It sat next to his chair on the ground.

He set it on his lap. He tore away the tape binding the lid. Not feeling picky, he plucked out a packet and tore open the plastic of a grape macaroon.

"Hee…"

"…?"

Maxwell heard it. It was like someone saying something before cutting it off with a hitch of their breath.

Then the girl suddenly rose from the cot. Her eyes opened; big, yellow eyes with… black slits stared ahead at first, blinking, then swiveling faster. They darted around the room before landing on Maxwell.

The boy blinked, lowering his forgotten sweet. His mind caught up with what was happening and made his mouth say something.

"Oh… Oh! Hey there!"

The girl flinched. She scooted back, like she was trying to hide herself in the cloak, nearly falling off the edge.

Maxwell tried to be calming. "Hey, I'm, um, sorry if you're scared. Or if you just don't know where you are. But you were gonna get kidnapped by gang members and I managed to bring you here. Just calm down… Uh…"

The girl with… with cat eyes had been staring at him, but then her eyes moved again, pointed and focused like a predator. The boy shifted nervously, and the girl's eyes followed the movement while the rest of her body stayed frozen.

He moved his arms a little. The eyes followed again. He lifted them. The slits moved up. He lowered. Her eyes fell.

Maxwell looked at the macaroon in his hand and waved it. The girl's upper lip was just peeking over her scarf. Her mouth was probably gaping, then drooling. Her eyes were focused, desperate.

"You want one?" the boy asked. "This macaroon?"

The horned girl's shoulders lowered, as though a weight had been lifted. Or she lost all tension for a pounce. Maxwell had noticed her yellow metallic shoes moving under the cloak, probably planted on the cot. The girl saw him looking and quickly went back to sitting down.

He held the treat out. The girl moved.

Instead of taking it with a hand, in the few _seconds_ Maxwell perceived, the girl leaned over, mouth parted, and snatched the macaroon up in one bite.

Maxwell closed his fingers. Was that wind he felt? "That's… fast…"

The girl made munching noises behind her red scarf, eyes closed, but the boy could imagine a smile behind it. The snacker finished with a delighted shake of her horns. A sound of total satisfaction came from her as she gulped.

"It's good, right?" Maxwell interjected, making her flinch again. But at least she was staring, not looking away. "Have you… eaten yet?"

The girl gave him a cautious stare, mouth still hidden. It was a few seconds before she gave a hesitant shake of her head.

"You're in luck, then. There's porridge on the way. Fish porridge, that is, if you want some."

She tilted her head instead of answering, like she was confused. It was actually adorable with her soft gaze.

The girl looked at the box on Maxwell's lap. There were more of the colored goodies inside. The boy saw her upper lip, but he could imagine the girl making a little waterfall if he didn't do something about it.

"Just one, alright? You have dinner on your way."

"…A-All?"

Maxwell's eyebrows rose. From that one word, he heard a voice low and soft, something he would expect of a shy person. But all the remaining nineteen treats?

"No. You'd be filling your belly. And too much is bad for your health."

"Mmnnghh…"

"No. Nuh-uh."

She gave him wide eyes. Big, round, sorrowful eyes.

"Don't you try that with me young lady— I mean, miss. You're my age aren't you? I have a little sister who tries that on me, and— alright, two?"

The way her cheeks moved closer suggested she was pouting.

"No, three? Look, that's as far as I'll—"

 _Crash!_

Maxwell flinched and looked for the tinkling, violent sound. Plates? He heard people shout, one girl's high-pitched apologies mixed in the brief clamor. In that moment, he heard a _whoosh_ of rushed air, and felt his knees lighter.

He looked down. The brown box wasn't there. In the corner of his right eye was a brown fabric on the floor.

As soon as he turned to look, the brown shape seemed to disappear, but he heard shuffling to his left.

He whipped his head that way. At the other end of the room, the little girl was opening the window. Maxwell's shopping bag swayed in her right hand. She looked back. For a moment, he saw her eyebrows go down. Clear regret was what flickered in her eyes before she slipped outside.

It took seconds to process it all. Howwhowhatwhywhere— too many questions. She's quick. The candy was gone. And the thief was outside!

"H-Hey!?"

Maxwell ran over to the window. The medical bay was on the ground floor, but the window out was a short drop to a large parking lot. At this time there were probably not many cars…

He stared. Moonlight was shining down on the city now. In the parking lot, dozens of cars and vans lit their headlights in response to the growing dark; the girl was in the middle of it all. Her golden braid dully reflected all lights alike, bouncing yet flowing, as she dashed across the busy 50-metre lot. She hopped onto a dumpster, startling the garbage disposal crew before leaping over the chain-link fence. Soon she disappeared out of sight.

Maxwell let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. It wasn't unheard of for people to go at incredible speeds, but this girl? Dashing past all the moving vehicles and making the jump at the end? No stops, all grace? He stepped back in wonder and hopelessness, wondering if she was some secret parkourist who stole for a living.

At least she didn't go for the dinner ingredients? Yet the macaroons were half-off…

Bernie came back, apologizing for the ruckus. He looked around for the girl.

Seeing the confusion, Maxwell uselessly said, "Good deeds do not go unpunished."

At that, Bernie could only look at him, confused.

 **-DC-**

Concrete, glass, metal, plastic, smoke… and people. So many people. There were many more words she could list, but what really came to her mind was… peace.

It was not really for her, she decided, and besides, she was too wary to enjoy this break at the moment. At least tonight, there (possibly) would be no bloodshed.

High up on a rooftop crouched a slightly tanned woman with turquoise hair. Her twin braids from the sides of her head danced a little when a cold breeze came by, but she was used to it on her many nights out hunting beasts. Between the fur hat resting on her head and the furry cloak draped over her shoulders, she could easily forgo a sleeping bag. Even then she could sleep without such comforts. The average city worker would have thought she was a very, very exotic hunter.

But her four black horns, little twins jutting from her forehead and larger ones rising further back, etched with green, would easily make her stand out.

 _"Avani, report."_

A warped, curt voice crackled from a metallic box riddled with buttons and holes at her feet. She took it up. With practiced motions, she held a button and spoke.

"Ah, all is quiet right now. Nyami was chasing one of those Crystal creatures from the last night. She responded moments earlier and said she lost it, munching on something, I might add."

The speaker did not reply for a moment, likely to contemplate on what to say.

 _"Have the rest of the team come and meet together back at our usual location,"_ she spoke after a moment. _"The enemy is likely preparing to hunt us down. We must plan."_

"I understand. But I am not sure about Nyami returning, however."

" _What do you mean?"_

Avani looked up. Her red eyes hardly miss her prey, but one black shape leaped away from a higher rooftop. Openly. After all, the hunter lacked the means to catch such elusive quarry. Which one was which, though, had been the debate between the horned woman and the other these past few weeks.

"Nyami reported the sighting of the enemy Units. They appear to be waiting for us to act, spread throughout the city as they are. It would be quite a risk for any of us to move around here."

 _"Understood. We must remain separated for the time being."_

Avani searched for something—anything—in that cold tone. But the speaker was focused, all business.

The green-haired woman smiled. "We may have been together for mere months, but this is hardly the first time any of us were stuck in such… a problem."

 _"Thank you for your reassurance. But I do not intend to fail. Black, out."_

A red light on the device stopped blinking. Lowering it, Avani let out a sigh. Tonight, predator and prey will stalk about these high buildings.

She watched over the streets, in thought. These 'vehicles' rode down the roads, moving smoothly like a herd as opposed to the clog of traffic earlier. Herds of them could always be sighted around the city, but it seemed that not many were around because of this day.

Christmas. So foreign-sounding. A tradition purely for enjoyment. Friends and family would be in their homes right now, celebrating, giving presents, with other people on this night of 'merry-making'.

A small parade of what Avani could simply summarize as metal, wheels, cheering, and too many lights was going down the road. They were loud, making it trivial for a tracker such as her to sense, but it was a happy sound.

If only her clan could celebrate too. But this was simply not the time. So Avani hummed a tune, wishing the night away. Not knowing of what will happen the next time all of them meet each other again.

And they _will_ meet, that much the huntress knew.

 **-DC-**

 **Author's Note:**

 **A word of thanks to HolyNightPriscilla. It should be clear why by the next few chapters.**

 **While I may be late in saying this, prior knowledge of Brave Frontier's story is not necessary, although it could help for you in identification. All will be eventually explained over the course of this story.**

 **Furthermore, this is a work of fiction. Certain names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. However, this story also draws from names, characters, business, events and incidents are in real life, but are not to be taken seriously. All rights reserved.**


	3. III: Meetings in the Morning

Chapter 2

 **Meetings in the Morning**

"Say, what's the name of the color of your hair?"

"…We talked about this."

"Your two-toned hair! Red and brown! Two natural colors blending together on one head's about as rare as anime stuff coming to life—and in this age it's getting more common. I think it'd be called… carnelian."

"Like the stone?"

"Yeah, that. But did you have a better name? Like, something out of your chuunibyou days?"

"I didn't— never went through that kind of phase! Though… I've never thought about a color name for my hair. I mean, it wasn't really that important, and I kept getting attention for it."

"My dear nephew, you've put that hair to good use in your cosplays. Those color tones are way deeper than the ordinary ones! And there aren't a lot of idols who can say they got nice and natural hair colors."

"Uncle Herman, I get that you like Japanese stuff like my mom did. You don't have to emphasize how much all the time."

"But I just gotta— whoa there, hold back."

A limousine passed by a pair made up of a boy and a man as they stopped in front of a zebra crossing. The young one had short brown hair with darkening ends, while the older had a mess of bright red curls. Each of them pulled a suitcase on wheels that made grating sounds as they were dragged over asphalt, drowned out by car horns and people walking every which way in the parking lot. It was a cold, busy day at the international airport they were headed for.

This kind of banter between Maxwell and his uncle reminded the boy too much of how he would talk with his sister. There were differences of course: Herman didn't talk about boys, dates, and little Isabelle was not around tugging at Maxwell's leg and asking what 'the birds and bees' meant, but otherwise Herman was like a slightly more bearable Elle.

"Bru-rednette? Or… bloody-woodnette?"

"Oh, don't start coming up with names now. You know how terrible you are."

"Why not? One of these days I'll have to name your babies."

"…Ew."

"Come on, you'll get a girl or two someday!"

 _Sometimes_ the banter was bearable.

The bru-rednette—the redhead-brunette—carnelianette—boy shook the ideas away. Today, he was coming to a new house in a new town that he was familiar with from his hundred or so visits. His old house in the town of Clemen had been sold off. Its lands were used for a new building, he heard.

It had been four years since Maxwell left the town. He made a sound, waving away a confused eye from his uncle. Worry rushed through him as he remembered the people of Clemen. He stayed in contact with a couple of them; they would say they were getting on with their lives, like 'X' was out of town, 'Y' was never heard from again, 'Z' got married, and stuff like that. One person in particular was still there though.

"We're here!"

Maxwell looked up from his thoughts to Uncle Herman's announcement. They were in front of the arrivals section. Through the glass walls, a fairly dense crowd flowed in and out the sliding doors.

Uncle Herman gave his nephew something like a wistful smile. "Boy, oh, boy, I'll miss your cooking."

Right. Maxwell could think more about Woodbury on the way, or better, check the whole situation for himself.

"Really," so he said drily, "try cooking a five-star course for two on your own next time. You'll know why I charged you, but you'll be thanking me once you get married."

Herman laughed, if only to cover up his red cheeks. "Yeesh! Sure, maybe? You kids are getting more evil with every generation."

"Mm-hmm," Maxwell hummed thoughtfully. "So do adults—as in you—I think."

"Now, now, what are you insinuating you pint-sized brat?" Herman jabbed.

"'Insinuating'? Guess my uncle's finally showing his age to throw around big words," Maxwell countered.

"I'll have you know I have an extensive vocabulary, good sir!"

Herman fingered an imaginary moustache. Maxwell rolled his eyes.

Then the man wrapped an arm around the boy and gave him a pat on the back. The boy leaned into him briefly before they separated.

"Be good, 'kay?"

"I'll be good, Uncle Herman."

Maxwell left. Herman watched his nephew walk inside the building before he turned around, only to be startled by a pair of girls. They stepped back just in time, turning their untimely collision into a dodge by a hair.

"Oops, sorry!"

The older-looking girl waved him away with a smile. The younger one looked away from the man's eyes and nodded.

They were cute in the observant policeman's opinion. They looked like each other, pale and raven-haired and all. Were they sisters?

He spared the thoughts and hurried off. He had a date waiting for him back at his apartment with a MUCH cuter girl.

That was fine with the two girls. They watched Maxwell look around and head for the airport's check-in area.

"It's really odd," the older girl said, "where people are free to insult each other and bear them like a wall would with a… cannonball, maybe. Don't they feel hurt?"

The younger girl nodded in reply.

"At any rate, let's move. Shall we, little sister?"

"Yes, Elder Sister."

The older girl let out a quiet sigh.

"What is it, Elder Sister?"

"…Nothing, Alice."

* * *

Before the check-in area of the airport, a girl with braided dark brown hair and earmuffs leaned against a column holding up the roof of the airport. In a brown hooded coat a size too big for her, she looked like a child who was given the coat by her father, then told to wait there. She looked at the smartphone she held in her hands, speaking through her red scarf into it, and did not meet the eyes of those who passed her by. She would look up for a few moments, maybe longer, then go back to speaking with whoever was on the phone. Such a worried demeanor could have attracted someone concerned, but the airport was bustling at the moment, especially with people waiting for someone or other. A girl like her was nothing out of the ordinary.

If only passerby heard this conversation.

 _"N.E., report,"_ the smartphone buzzed at Nyami.

"I followed the two… to the airport…" the girl spoke in whispers. "They are by the entrance… following… ah—!"

 _"What? What has happened?"_

"Their target… is the boy… from last night…"

The sisters. Their long hair was a deep shade of violet. The short one had dull purple eyes, while the taller had bright red, and they were both dressed in dark fur coats for the weather. But Nyami couldn't mistake their true appearances, much less the cold they seemed to radiate.

And it was suspicious. Nyami 'played' hide-and-seek many times and these two made for poor hiders. After all that happened between them, they had to have at least known someone would be following them. Still, Nyami and her friends experienced first-hand at how well they acted as assassins. The girl wanted to tell 'Black' how dangerous staying here was…

But the boy. Nyami saw them looking straight at him.

 _"The brown-and-red-haired boy?"_ Black spoke through the smartphone Nyami held in her hands. _"What attracted their interest?"_

"I… don't know… I think… it was me…"

 _"Ever since he took you to that charity organization, and stopped a gang from taking you, according to the people there. He got in their way of you."_

Nyami felt tears threatening to form in her eyes. She remembered the enemy assassin on the day before Christmas Eve, taking injuries in a battle, escaping, and falling down. That night, she saw the form of a little girl—and the faint sheen of crimson eyes reflecting the moonlight—on a rooftop when the young thief ran away from that boy. Nyami knew that assassin had to have at least watched the building and the one who had been by her side.

"B-Black… did I put someone… in danger again…?"

 _"Perhaps,"_ replied the cool voice. _"But as long as we ensure that the boy does not know, and that we make it subtly clear that he has no ties to us, he should be fine."_

Nyami shuddered. Black always talked like this. But she didn't lie. Even so, it didn't change the fact that someone innocent was involved again, all because of little Nyami, the one who would get into big trouble. She got scolded a few times for that. This was all bigger than her after all. If only she could do better. If only…

 _"—This may well be an opportunity. Go and follow him. Your disguise may well fool the enemy, but if they are smart, they will piece clues together. At the very least, they will know he has no value. If not, this can be your chance to track the sisters while you're in a situation of 'meeting up with a friend from the other day'. Understood?"_

"Uh, um, okay," Nyami quickly replied, those hard-to-think thoughts forgotten. "Just… meet?"

 _"Yes, and keep watch for any dangers. We have been receiving reports of high enemy activity around the airport lately. Watch for us entering the area. And stay cautious. Ending transmission."_

Nyami tucked the phone into a pocket in her coat. She looked around. It was still busy, a sea of faces and colors and sizes the thief didn't need to note, save for the sisters blending into the crowd. They were easy to spot despite their clothing.

She watched them stand still and… vanish. It was like watching the air bend, like in a desert where the heat could make whatever she saw 'wobble'. Yes, their figures warped and vanished quickly from the body up, until the little thief saw nothing but empty space where the pair had been.

But Nyami knew it wasn't a perfect stealth spell. A man suddenly stumbled, as though he ran into something. He looked around wildly but found nothing. He shrugged and went on his way, and Nyami didn't find anyone who acted the same after that. It was probably because there were so many people that being bumped around happened a lot.

Her friends called it glamour, or illusion magic. Or advanced 'technology'. Whatever the case, Nyami couldn't track magic as well as some people she knew, but she could guess instead at where they're going.

Nyami put her hood back on. Time to do what she did best.

* * *

This girl was not at her best, Maxwell saw that much.

He got through the airport's baggage and passport checks, leaving him with a small backpack to carry. He arrived at his waiting area when he felt someone trying to bore holes into his back with their eyes.

And suddenly? A hooded girl that he could have sworn wasn't there a second ago. It made him jump. Literally. He had to calm down the old lady who watched the whole thing.

Now, the two stood, looking at each other, waiting for a reaction. The silence between them was awkward, especially because Maxwell knew she was a thief, for all he could have sugarcoated that fact, and the girl seemed nervous, looking away from his eyes.

Finally, the girl made a little sound and pulled her hood back. The boy looked and found himself cross-referencing two images.

Caramel brown hair tied into a long braid, with a little bladed strand on her temple hanging low. The hair was styled the same as he remembered, but not blonde? Maxwell worked with dyes and wigs many times, but he knew those horns had to go somewhere unless they were head decorations in the first place. And eyes? No slits, save for oval irises, like any other person here. Most of everything about this girl was meant to be… not eye-catching, Maxwell figured.

"Um… um…"

The girl fidgeted. Maxwell ran a hand over the back of his head and wondered how much of a scene they were making. He doubted it would bother anyone around much, but seeing as they were standing together while there were lots of people around sitting, one little girl acting like she was persuaded into doing something terrifying, and one boy with an interesting hair color, while more people were coming to the gatehouse and there was a security guard—

The girl flinched when Maxwell cleared his throat. Her eyes went wide, watching him in fright, just like they did when they first talked to each other. Her… cowlick seemed to tremble the most.

Maxwell tried to smile. "Hey," he said softly, "I won't bite. How about we just sit down and stay calm?"

The boy sat down on one seat beside them. The brunette girl looked from him, to the seat, then back at him. Maxwell looked back, expectant. Then she sat down too.

Maxwell's sort-of-smile grew wider a bit, which the boy hoped was reassuring. Thankfully, the girl stopped shifting in nervousness as she stared at this victim of her theft. And more importantly, they were not going to be pulled aside by security.

He cut to the chase. "So, is this about the macaroons?"

"Y-Yes…" she answered.

Maxwell crossed his arms, one index finger rhythmically tapping his forearm. "And… what did you do with them?"

"I ate… one box…"

Maxwell's lips pressed together in disapproval. "Were you, um, desperate? Like I said, why didn't you just wait for the porridge to be served? The macaroons weren't really that expensive, but stealing is stealing, and those people were going to help with no charge."

The girl started to fidget again. "Was… followed…"

"Followed?"

She clammed up, eyes wide. She looked at him pleadingly and shook her head.

"Um, no, not-not followed! I… uuu…"

"I don't get what you're saying… but you don't have to talk about it."

The girl perked up, eyes shining, followed by a little smile. Her gratitude could not have been more obvious and it embarrassed Maxwell.

"Ah, I… saved the expensive ones…" the girl said after a moment.

"What for?"

"Didn't feel… right. And… n-no one to share with…"

"So you felt guilty." His finger stopped tapping. "Where is it now?"

The girl fidgeted—

"Okay, okay, another question you shouldn't be answering! Feels like you're part of some secret society or something…"

She stared at him with total horror. Wait, was his guess dead on?

The boy shook his head. "I don't need to know about what happened to my macaroons, okay? Like I said, it wasn't that big of a loss, and besides, I can just buy more here. Heck, you might have done me a favor taking them away because I'm not sure how fresh those macaroons would have stayed."

Maxwell remembered seeing a few shops that had sweets. He stood up to search for one.

"I still have some time before my flight. Say, mind coming with me to take a look—?"

 _Durrrr…_

"Oh…" Nyami held her hands over her stomach. She pawed into one of her pockets and drew out a cheap-looking coin purse. There was no clinking when she drew it out, nor anything green when she opened it.

She was in trouble.

Unconsciously, Maxwell's finger hammered his hip in debate.

* * *

The sisters looked at their target, carrying a tray of omelettes laid on red rice in the food court. The girls were seated at a table over a dozen paces away where they could get a clear view of the boy and the new girl.

It was something of madness to be this close for spying, but the sisters lacked the equipment at the moment for proper disguises or the magic for any advanced eavesdropping. Besides, they were supposed to be acting 'normally', whatever their uncle meant. So far, this was just another human civilian they were tracking, though they were unsure of the little girl.

At any rate, if the boy did have something to do with… the 'other side' of this world, or their elusive enemies, none of their would-be opponents could ever bear the might of their whole family. If they would ever show, that is.

So the girls acted normally.

"Say 'ah', dear sister," said the older crimson-eyed girl.

"Ah," followed the one with passive violet eyes.

"Was the parfait good?"

"It was sweet."

"Hm. Here, a strawberry?"

"…Sweet. Slightly sour."

"The cream, combined with this… melon syrup."

"Sweet. I detect a more complex flavor from this combination."

"Hmph."

"What is it, Elder Sister?"

"I'd be lying if I said I was just happy with us together like this. That is, I was hoping for… more of a reaction?"

"…?"

"No, perhaps this moment is enough. Father never lets us have much holidays. Hm…"

"…The target remains at his seat. The girl as well."

"That 'omurice' looks delightful."

"Shall I order one?"

"There's no need— Oh?"

"Your phone is ringing. Perhaps it is Father."

"…No, just Berdette… Hello~? Hm… Certainly not, we're not enjoying a parfait between ourselves while we are spying— there, there, I'm sure you can enjoy some yourself on the flight… Don't deny it! Heheh, yes, yes, nothing is out of the ordinary other than the girl. She could be one of our enemies… Hm? Well, alright then."

"Is the plan proceeding well?

"It is, though it appears our intelligence is too busy to check on this individual. We just need to keep watch over those two until they arrive, then it's off to that country you've been so transfixed by."

"…"

"Hold on, you have some cream on your cheek."

~DC~

On another table in the same food court, a man watched both pairs enjoying themselves. One amethystine eye seemed to glint under his cap for a moment before turning his gaze up, at the floor above, past the railing, directed at a young lady with raven hair sitting with a man in front of her. She wore a simple fur coat, a red ascot cap and sunglasses in spite of the cloudy weather.

She smiled as she received the attention. The man noticed.

"What's up, honey?"

"Nothing, dear. Just wondering… what do you think about lingerie?"

As the man shut up and went red, dreaming up things that could happen, the girl leaned her elbow on the table and rested her cheek on the open hand. Wrapped tightly around her delicate wrist was a bracelet made up of little black chains, held together by a clasp on the part of her wrist where she could have felt her heart pulse. A thin round gem of obsidian, more like a coin, was embedded on it. The girl's mouth moved close to it.

The girl whispered, "All seems quiet here. What do we do about those two children?"

 _"Nothing. Continue… hm?"_

"What is it?"

 _"Our guards have stopped responding in the hangar. Melina, abandon the man and check on it."_

"Under~stood, Uncle."

The young lady stood up. The man blinked.

"What is it?" he asked. "Do you want to go buy some now?"

"No, I just need to powder my nose. Oh, and you might want to take a look in the toilet in that direction. I think you left something there."

The young lady pointed at a hallway and left without another word, leaving the man to fumble with his thoughts. She went into a different hallway, turned a corner, saw a crowd passing by an emergency exit, and—

That day, the camera monitoring the spot saw a young lady turn her head a little and opened the emergency door— no, one of the men did it, while a few of his friends followed. Then they stepped back in surprise, laughing and talking about their mistake in various accents. They just didn't watch where they were going.

But the girl was walking down some stairs in the next minute and skipping over the airfield. It was snowing lightly today, white powder blanketing the field. Empty, frosted patches where the snow was clear were left behind by snowplowing trucks all over the place, rumbling to keep the airport running.

The girl was still crossing the field when a bus drove near her. From inside the bus, a boy who sighted a figure only saw her for just that second. Whoever that person was crossed dozens of metres in a few seconds, and they looked hazy despite the daylight coming through the clouds. By the time the boy turned for his mother, the figure was gone in a flurry of snowflakes.

So the girl blew past the snow, running, and skidding to a stop in front of a hangar. She poked her head inside the doors, abandoning all notions of stealth.

"Hello~?" she called. "Are any of you slacking off again? I won't tell my sisters, so come out already~"

She skipped inside, heels clacking on concrete. Lamps hung high from the ceiling, lighting up the hangar. Light shone off all sorts of metal equipment, trucks, crates, suitcases, and a black jet. And purplish-black armor.

It belonged to a man lying on the ground, armored from head to toe. A groan escaped from him. His helmet, a thick, rounded one with a pointed faceplate, had a dent in it. There was a tear in his armguard, trailing down his plated shoulder. Blood painted the metal over it.

The girl spotted more of the armored guards, lying down, unconscious or dazed, but bloody. The scene smelled… tangy was one word, but very familiar, almost comforting to this girl. It was just the artist who started it all.

Then she took out a curved red dagger, a blade with edges so jagged and wicked it ensured she could cause tears as she pulled flesh, and paint the blade even further in crimson.

She threw it behind her. The dagger sailed into the air and straight at a corner in the ceiling, where the lights in the hangar barely covered it and left it a dim spot.

The dagger suddenly stopped. The girl could see a patch of green ragged at the edges, suddenly hear fabric flap faintly in the cold wind, and the shine of crimson fall to the ground and—

There was a screech, as though the air itself screamed at being rent apart as twin metal chains—barbs running along them that made the dagger's edges seem lacking—closed in on the wide-eyed girl on either side of her.

The girl hopped high, tucking in her knees by the barest of seconds, over the metal jaws. The smell of poison mingled with that of blood now, painting a likely picture of what was to come right after the hop. The girl grinned at the thought.

The chains did not stop. The girl eyed the bladed weights they were connected to knocking aside crates and scratching the jet's hull, before pulling back to a certain woman she wished to see for a while now.

"Hello there," greeted the horned, turquoise-haired, tan, and (outrageously, skimpy) busty woman. The end of her chains, which lacked barbs at the end to her weights, were grasped within the same hands that wielded single-edged swords with blades that looked like iron at first glance. Golden metal made up the back of those blades and hilts. "It's been a while, assassin."

The girl curtsied, holding a part of her coat up. The red dagger was in the same hand, something the woman made a thoughtful sound at.

"Indeed, Miss Huntress," the girl replied, a delighted smile playing on her lips. "I was worried about having to lose another playmate."

The woman shrugged. "An unfortunate sense of fun you have there. Your skills would have had you fit right in with my clan, and more so my leader."

"Oh my, an invitation? Sorry, but I go where my uncle goes."

"A shame." The green-cloaked woman shook her head and leveled a blade at the girl. "I did not come here for pleasantries, naturally."

"Naturally," the little girl agreed, flipping her dagger and catching it, "we try to kill each other instead. Let's paint this place even redder, perhaps with these hopeless sacks of meat lying around?"

The woman winced at the choice of the words. The girl flipped and caught the dagger again without a care in the world, save for one man. The wary huntress started towards her, chains trailing behind her. Red lights bled into existence around the head of the smiling girl, shaping themselves into butterflies.

The other person who had been watching from atop the jet took this chance to pull a trigger.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Yes, it has been a long while. There is not much to say here other than action and meetings gaining traction here. I hope you readers can look forward to more.**


End file.
